


Everyone Needs a Goldfish

by SageMasterofSass



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, this is really dumb trust me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 16:05:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1121831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SageMasterofSass/pseuds/SageMasterofSass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So I made a tumblr post about how I hoped Greg was Mycroft's new goldfish. This nonsense ensued. </p><p>Sorry, not sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everyone Needs a Goldfish

**Author's Note:**

> This is so very dumb and so very short

Mycroft stares blankly at the smooth, glass tank currently sitting on top of a precarious pile of his paperwork. There’s a small fish occupying its meager depths and a tiny, submerged castle. 

He honestly thought he was done being surprised by his younger brother. He was wrong. 

Sucking in a deep breath (patience is a virtue, especially when dealing with the younger Holmes) he stands and moves away from his desk, hands settling easily in the pockets of his designer suit.

“And what,” he sighs, sending another glance at the tiny golden fish, “exactly, is the meaning of this?”

Sherlock is still standing where he was when he produced the tank with a flourish and plopped it down right on top of Mycroft’s work. His smile is large but no less devious and certainly no less knowing. 

“I was worried.” He shrugs, as if it’s something he can’t help. “Poor Mycroft, always working, never playing. It made Jack dull, but it only makes you gain weight.” 

Mycroft’s been scowling since his younger brother walked in, but he gives a pointed glare at that and Sherlock smiles wider. 

“I figured you might need a…companion,” Sherlock continues. 

“So you bought me a goldfish.” He can’t keep the contempt out of his voice, but it’s not like he was trying to in the first place. 

His younger brother’s smile turns into a smirk. “Don’t worry, Mycroft. It eats far less than you. Plus, I’ve already taken the liberty of naming it.” The consulting detective winks once and then he’s breezing out of the room, all billowing coat and dark, messy hair. Mycroft can’t help himself from taking a step forward and calling out to the retreating figure.  
“And what did you name it, then?”

Sherlock doesn't look back, but his brother can hear the laughter in his voice. “Gabe!” 

~~~~

In the end, Mycroft takes the fish home with him. He’s not sure why exactly, but there he is, unlocking his flat with files under one arm and the tank balanced in the palm of his hand. 

Greg is waiting for him inside, stretched out on the sofa with his shoes off but his socks on, remote resting on his belly. He smiles when he sees Mycroft and sits up, words on his lips. But then he spots the fish and his brow furrows. The older Holmes is speaking before he can ask. 

“Sherlock brought it into the office today,” he deadpans, setting fish bowl and office files alike on the kitchen counter. “Said its name was Gabe.” 

The detective follows him into the kitchen, taking his suit jacket when he shrugs it off and hanging it on the back of one of the dining room chairs. Then he stands, shoulder to shoulder with Mycroft and stares contemplatively down at the tiny golden creature. Eventually Lestrade shrugs and turns his attention to the man next to him.

“Bloody weird he is, but enough about that,” he chimes, tugging gently on Mycroft’s tie. “Come watch telly with me, I’ve missed you.” 

The elder Holmes smiles and leans easily into a kiss before obediently following his boyfriend back into their living room, goldfish momentarily forgotten.


End file.
